


Playthings

by fuzipenguin



Series: The House of Eros [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bondage, Brothels, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Sounding, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Twincest, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 16:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Kup is the most experienced worker in the brothel, the House of Eros. Enter Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, two upstarts who think they know everything. They're just *begging* for some instruction in Kup's mind.





	Playthings

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a while back because I saw fanart somewhere of Sides and Sunny just snuggling up to Kup wearing... short-shorts maybe?  
> Anyway, always wanted to write a brothel!verse. I have a few other pieces that will probably go into here as well.

     “You know what the thing about twins is?” Kup absently asks, not really expecting an answer.

     He circles the trembling frames on the floor, pausing as he reaches their helms. He bends over, critically examining first Sunstreaker’s face and then his brother’s. Sideswipe’s optics are open, but bled of all color and staring sightlessly at some spot above his twin’s head. Sunstreaker has his optics tightly shuttered and the tip of one sharp denta is buried within his lower lip.

     “They always say they like their own thing… but when it comes right down to it, nothing gets ‘em off better than treating ‘em like one being,” Kup finishes, reaching down and smoothing a hand over the back of Sunstreaker’s helm. The warrior jerks in place with a whine, a trickle of energon staining his lower lip.

     “Whadya think, boys? Think that’s the case with you two?” Kup asks, leaning over further so he can check their chest spreaders.

     The red and yellow plating of their hoods gape open, held apart by two thick rods, one higher and one lower. In addition, Kup had also placed small, thinner bars between their adjacent chassis. Magnetized in place, they keep they twins’ upper bodies from touching. Their exposed sparks whirl and strain towards one another with angry lashes of pure white tendrils, but are never quite able to reach across the distance separating them.

     It’s the same all down the length of their bodies. Kup has positioned them so not even their pedes touch.

     “… you’re… gonna… kill… us…” Sideswipe manages to get out through clenched denta. The twins’ hands are cuffed behind their backs and Sideswipe’s fingers spasmodically clench and release, trembling and straining as if trying to grasp for his twin.

     Kup pushes up out of his crouch and moves behind Sideswipe until he reaches the level of their hips. Then he throws a leg over Sunstreaker and straddles them both. He flicks the thin, vibrating sound that bridges the distance between their erect spikes. The rod is long, magnetically held in place halfway down each of their spike channels. Transfluid keeps welling up, dripping over their spike heads to puddle on the floor between their hips.

     Sunstreaker spits out a garbled curse and the smear of energon on his lips grows larger.

     “Naw, I doubt it. I once kept a pair of twins like this for a whole joor and they were fine. Wimpy little things, the both of them, though. They kept begging me to let them merge; I bet you can hold out for way longer. It helps if you overload down here,” Kup replies, fingering the wires to the multiple bullets buried deep in their valves. He has the little toys on a remote, but has always found his playthings build a better sense of anticipation when they can feel or see him tugging on the cords.

     “Takes your mind off the burn in your sparks,” Kup explains. “That ice cold pain of yearning, that insistent pull towards completion. I bet you want it so bad, don’t ya, boys? Think you got a joor in you at least?”

     “Primus… oh, _Primus_ ,” Sideswipe whispers frantically while Sunstreaker whimpers, high-pitched and thin. Kup has found over time that the more the words fall from Sideswipe’s lips, the more Sunstreaker goes non-verbal. “Frag… oh frag… least… two, right… Sunny?”

     Kup laughs, swatting Sideswipe on the aft. He’s still trying for that cocky swagger, but all Kup sees is desperation. He’s not surprised. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are nigh inseparable, the closest pair of twins he’s ever worked with. When they’re not with clients, their hands are all over each other, lips and glossa following the paths of their fingers. House security has broken them apart on more than one occasion when they couldn’t wait to get to their quarters.

     To be this close, every inch of their frames separated only by air and spreaders, must be a special kind of torture.

     The best kind.

     Kup reaches over and smacks Sunstreaker on the rear end as well, just to be fair. “That’s the spirt, boys!”

     He tugs on the bullets’ wires once more before doubling the vibration speed. The twins moan in unison, Sideswipe’s baritone and Sunstreaker’s bass harmonizing perfectly in Kup’s old audials.

     He smiles in satisfaction. Twins really are his favorite to play with.

 

~ End


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